20170210

William Repass

DE STIJL
October,
we stop
a while
outside
a shop.
In ranks
behind bars:
wooden legs
prop chairs for sale,
shedding photographs
of leaves. Exposing,
like branches,
force + direction:
information
in formation
in formations.
How many years
until march turns over?
DIATOMACEOUS EARTH
benevolent spies disks
shadow their own steps & & storage
root down, upending of food-pyramids
petri dishes quintessence
chock full of -nessless sublimated
structures, & in blinks, into the
counting-down the glassware between greedy
take great care to not let if justified, rising
slip a sphere of power to & white soul appear as
burst into chain-links of code now images of the black
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp decoded into countless putrescent little minds—
COMPARATIVE ADVANTAGE
& just as lucre
rules it be
hooves us we
let ourselves by
our skinned teeth
be set to
spinning
for a thread
bare fee as if
free
ly embroidered
into this whirling of
wool-wheels
needing needle
stick & stuck
in our own sweat
boxes fatiguing teeming still
sweeter with the
stench & stitch
of dreamt wed
lock greased
in animating
poverty’s mnemonics re
& rewritten into
skin’s skin cheaply
& cheaper
until such seams
as begin seeming
lines dotted through this
our infinite debt
like ink wells with
out an inkling isn’t
a deed a mere
mirror soak
brush brush
stroke & key
bleed red read
er re
member how a rose
still stuck is in it
COLA COMMERCIAL
citizens of the heart attack
work posthumously, held
accountable to a crack
in cocaine syntax: no revolución
but a revolver, slapstick, says
“bang” in blank parody of another
republic's bananapeel repealed pulse,
repeater: bank on bombshell-blonde bangs
cut straight across the warhead
of an émigré Vietnamese & me.
BINGE
I have Munched à l'Edvard a sac of chips and
polished off the total of Sappho's fragments.
Can't I taste the difference? It seems my gut can
glue them together,
into wholeness greater than wholeness: union!
melting-pot democracy belches, blood and
bile rising: I am a donut hole [ ]
softening slowly,
breaking into liquid, imprisoned in my
colon's own hinge. Rupture is certain, but it's
private, stuck. Screaming a [
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Originally from Los Alamos, New Mexico, William Repass lives and works as a film librarian in Pittsburgh. His writing has appeared in, or is forthcoming from, Denver Quarterly, Berkeley Poetry Review, Hobart, and elsewhere.